


Underexposed

by Pythonmelon



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-01
Updated: 2016-01-12
Packaged: 2018-05-11 00:11:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5606257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pythonmelon/pseuds/Pythonmelon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Long before Frisk fell into the underground, before flowers were given the will to live, before the world underground was lit by the power of endless oceans of Lava, three lost souls now well-known make their first appearance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Professor Gaster wiped down his nameplate one more time before leaving his office, admiring his reflection at the glimmering bronze lettering around his name. He smiled, stood, and picked the stack of papers off his desk. He slipped them into his knapsack and headed out, locking the door and taking a second to clean a smudge off of the frosted window also wearing his name. Room 109, W.D. Gaster.   
The middle-aged man left down the hall, a small grin on his uneven lips and a slight skip in his step. “See you Monday,” A coworker signed casually. “Going hiking with the boys this weekend?”   
“Yes.” He signed back with his free hand. “Taking a break from the university and going up on Ebott.”   
“Whoa, careful out there.” The younger man returned, locking his own room and walking with Gaster down the hall. “I hear you can fall into the underground, through the caves. Those two children got lost up there years ago.”   
“We’ll be fine.” He gave a pleasant smile. “Sandy and Parker are smart kids; we’ll stay on the trail.”   
“Okay, stay safe Wagner. Say hi to the boys for me.”   
“I will Terry.” He promised as they parted ways in the parking lot. The sun was setting over the tree line. The respected professor of thermonuclear physics took a sigh of relief, excited to head home, pack up his cargo shorts, and take his sons for a long weekend of briars, sunlight, and socks with sandals (Or, the most comfortable shoe combo he had ever known).   
~~~  
“Sans! Sans cut it out!” The gangly teenager swung his arms and legs wildly against the heavier boy. “That’s gross.”  
“It’s not gross, its rubber.” His older brother smiled tiredly, leaning back further and smothering Papyrus. He had leapt over the couch where his sibling was lying, managed to place a whoopee cushion perfectly between them, and landed on it.   
“Get off! Get off get off!” Papyrus whined loudly.   
“Fine, bro. I know when art can’t be appreciated.” He sighed and lifted his weight off the couch and the thirteen-year-old flattened into the cushions. As he did, the door opened and their father walked in. He greeted his older son with a wave.   
When their dad was home, it was mostly quiet. Not because Parker “Papyrus” Gaster wasn’t constantly frustrated with his near-adult brother, but because most conversation was held in ASL with the authority figure in the house. It was very pleasantly calm, until someone screamed. There was very little variation between those two volumes.   
Parker leapt up and followed Gaster into the kitchen. “All packed?” He wore his characteristic relaxed smile.   
“Yes, Sandy isn’t though.”  
“I didn’t think so. He’s always got just one eye on his work.”   
“The blue one.”   
“Now, Parker you know what I said about making fun of him.” Gaster shed his jacket and was left in a soft, white turtleneck. The eldest child had a rare case of heterochromia- one eye blue like his father and one eye deep oaken brown like the rest of his family.   
“I’m not!” Parker drummed his hands on the table. “That’s what he says. Can I help cook dinner?”   
The older man looked out at the golden light flooding their small kitchen window and nodded. “Sure thing. If you’ll help with the casserole, I have a roast already prepared for the oven.” He pulled a white, frilly apron from the oven handle and tied it on. A plain white one went over the boys’ basketball T-shirt and they started to take over their own projects. Parker pulled a cookbook off the homey little shelf of old recipes and located a hash brown casserole. Wagner removed a beef roast with rosemary and thyme clinging to its ruddy outside from the refrigerator and placed it lovingly in the oven set for 450°.   
As the two crossed back and forth on the white linoleum, Sandy “Comic Sans” Gaster was practicing on his trombone. On his wall was a blue and red school pennant, surrounded by academic awards over a row of colorful lava lamps. Whenever he turned away from ‘Grand Old Flag’ he would focus here. A pin, for the marching band first chair, rested on the breast of his trademark hoodie. He squinted at the music and finished the song. It would probably be a good idea to turn on his lights, but he really liked working by lava lamp, even if it would probably mean glasses someday. He had made it this far.   
Trombone was one of the few things he put honest effort into, coupled only with his low aspirations to be a quantum physicist and his high aspirations to be a first rate comedian. With the trombone, he had a way to plague his brother’s daily life with incidental musical accompaniment.   
Sandy paused as he heard Parker cheer something about how well the roast was browning and figured he should probably pack. But it was a single change of clothes; he could throw them into his backpack with chocolate bars, a pack of frozen hot dogs, and water. The cabins near the top of Ebott were old, breaking down. They were from long before water and electricity and could still turn a profit for those avid outdoorsman that weren’t afraid of the mysterious beasts below the Earth’s crust. While none of the Gasters were real outdoorsman, it was still a nice once-a-year family bonding trip.   
~~~  
He was still thinking about it as they crossed the creek leading up the mountain. A candy wrapper floated by his boots as he splashed through the stones. They were a ways up, and it was only two. Soon they’d be stopping for a late lunch and some exploring.   
“Hey, Wingdings?” Sans stopped and waved down at his father, tacking his lovingly begotten nickname onto the end, who had stopped to smell the mountain laurels. “Did you bring your camera?”   
“I told Papyrus he could use it.” The forty-three-year-old stopped off at the older boy’s side.   
The younger boy was deep into the undergrowth around the picnic spot. “I found a foxhole! It’s huge!”   
“Really?” Sandy kicked dirt up with his heels as he ran to see this discovery. “Is there something in it?”   
“Maybe!” He stuck his head into the darkness.   
“That’s not a foxhole, that’s a bear cave.” Sandy corrected.  
“Careful guys.” Gaster chased them off the trail. “You don’t know where it leads.”  
“We can see, though!”   
“It’s just a few feet pops, what’s the worst that could happen?”   
“I guess.” The professor gave an exasperated sigh and followed his children into the pitch of the unknown. “Watch where you step. It could be dangerous.” What Terry had said hung in the back of his mind, about the underground. About the lost children.  
None ever saw the drop-off. Parker didn’t have time to make more than a squeak of terror before he took hold of Sandy’s jacket. Sandy had only the time to tug at his father’s sleeve, and they were pulled together into the depths of Mt. Ebott.


	2. Chapter 2

There was blood dripping off the ends of his hair. The ponytail holder keeping his twist-out curls tame had snapped at some point, probably on impact, and it hung around his head loosely. Sandy groaned and reached up, slowly probing his scalp for the source of the blood. They came away sticky in most places, he couldn’t locate it. But the blood was thick; it appeared to have stopped gushing.   
The teen sat up with some effort. The ground was soft, but he had to move or he may well die there. “P-Parker? Dad? Are you guys alright?”   
“Fine brother.” Came a very quiet answer. Sandy turned over quickly. Apparently, his family had awakened long before he did. For a second, the world was fuzzy and he shook his head hard to focus. “Oh, god.”   
Everything down to his nose was dark, sticky red. The younger man looked like he was going to wretch. “Shhh,” Sandy quickly patted his shoulder. “I’m okay. Head scratches bleed a lot. Are you hurt?”   
“No, but dad is.” The boy was still whispering, and motioned his head towards the injured professor.   
Pulled back on the edge of the small patch of now-flat golden flowers they had landed in was Gaster himself. He was cradling one hand, fighting back clear tears. His dark tan cheeks were smeared with earth. “Sandy, do you see a way up?” He managed with his free hand.   
The teen was still trying to take in the place they had landed. Sunlight streamed in from far above, a barely discernable ledge surrounded by weeds. It was a wonder they had survived. Great stone pillars reached towards the sunlight. He shook his head again and clawed at the ruined building to stand back up. Immediately his stomach lurched and Sandy hunched over, throwing up the breakfast from hours ago. The room spun, and he stumbled back and fell on his butt.   
“No.” He mumbled, shaking his head, trying to find his backpack. It was still wrapped around his shoulders. Parker rushed over to help him remove it. One bottle of water had burst, but he pulled a solid one free and helped open it for the injured boy to rinse out his mouth. “It’s- It’s a long way up. Where are we?”   
“Someplace abandoned, hopefully.” The father gave a one-handed reply.   
Sandy managed to get up again and moved over to his side. “Let me see that hand.”   
Gaster pulled back protectively. “No. It’s broken; I’ll find a way to wrap it up.”   
The young adult sighed and shut his eyes. Their father was so stubborn. “Alright. We need to get up, find where we are. See if someone can help us.”   
“Uh, uh, Dad. Sandy. Somebody’s here.” Parker smacked the back of his brother’s jacket repeatedly, facing the dark end of the clearing.   
“What?” The other boy turned. The taller teen was stock-still as a figure emerged from the shadows.   
It hadn’t been watching, the monster towering over them had apparently just arrived. Parker pulled back and Sandy put out an arm protectively, dragging himself back to his feet. He felt a bead of sweat break the now-black face paint of his own blood. He had never even seen a monster in more than silhouette murals. “Come now,” She whispered comfortingly before he could warn her off. “I want to help. Did you fall?”   
“Yes.” Parker blurted out. The hushed tone was an immediate draw to the boy. “Can you help us? They’re hurt.” One hand was rested on each injured person’s head.  
“Pap.” Sans hissed, bumping him back.   
“It’s alright.” She put one hand out. “You poor things, I don’t mean any harm. I have medical supplies at home.”   
Wagner looked up from beneath the human shield he’d been given. He put his uninjured hand out to tug at the back of Sandy’s jacket. When given a cursory look he shook his head. They had no way of beating this monster if they fought, he didn’t want his children hurt more than they were.   
Stiffly, the elder son nodded back at her. “If you can help us, and we can go home, we’d really appreciate it.”   
She offered a hand. “Yes, my child, I can help.”   
He raised an eyebrow, scooting back suspiciously. Sandy shook head again, trying to unscramble his thoughts. “Parker, help me move dad. I think we’ll be safe with her.” Monsters were not known for being malicious. Only powerful. These days, many humans were afraid of monsters only because of the unknown.   
Parker helped his brother lift the forty-three year old, raising the shoulder he was supporting with his gangly frame far above his brother. “It’s been quite a while since humans fell down here.” The, apparently judging by her horns, got monster explained. “I patrol these ruins every day for unfortunate travelers. We don’t get many.”  
“There are more monsters here?” The youngest of the men tilted his head.   
“Not many. It’s mostly me here.” She plucked a snail off the wall. The hallways were winding, the purple brick and walkways well-lit by candles. Ivy had pushed through the walls. Sandy began to wonder how they grew here, but judging by the flowers, grasses, and even trees they passed on their trek, the plants here relied on something other than sunlight.  
She was speaking something about traps and their dangers. Sandy wasn’t listening. They moved slowly through the ruins long apparently long abandoned but still laden with puzzles. Defense, probably. Parker was eating up every word. He loved puzzles. His eyes were bright, darting around the rooms. Every few minutes he would pull ahead, making Sandy and their father stumble to keep up.   
As they moved all three felt a touch of comfort, a little safer as they moved deeper. Occasionally, something that looked like a large frog moved in their direction. The monster always gave them a stern look, and they went along. Gaster watched with pure fascination. He took mental notes through the pain.  
Sans drifted off, escaping into the thought of going home. He sucked in a deep breath, felt his stomach lurch once again, and disappeared.


End file.
